


Coming Home

by fabulousweapon



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabulousweapon/pseuds/fabulousweapon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve’s fifty now, or will be in a month but he could easily pass for younger. From this far away she sees the same man that stole her heart at eight years old. He’s tall still, of course, but he won’t tower above her anymore.  She’s taller than her father now by two inches. He claims it’s the heels she always wears when she’s not training. She knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Don't even ask me where this insanity came from.  
> Also, I know some are going to look at the pariing and bitch. It's FUTURE FIC. Grace is a grown up.

It had been sixteen years since they’d gotten on a plane and flown away. Since his world had been torn apart, and hers sealed back together as she’d thought she wanted. Her parents had remarried, and were still together even now. Her father threw himself into his work and was barely home so he could avoid paying attention to her mother’s numerous affairs. Sometimes she wishes things had just stayed as they were before her little brother.

Steve is a strong kid though. A football player, just like his namesake, and there’s talk of a scholarship and place on a college team before going pro. Her father couldn’t be more proud. Her mother couldn’t care less. Her brother’s name had been the first fight since the return to Jersey, but nowhere near the last.

Fourteen years since the last time she’d seen him, and it’s easy enough to track him down. He still haunts the same bar she remembered from her father’s stories about the team. He sits alone at the bar after Chin leaves. She watches the older man clamp a hand onto his shoulder, wedding ring catching the light. He seems happier than she remembers him being. There’s a peace there now.

Steve’s fifty now, or will be in a month but he could easily pass for younger. From this far away she sees the same man that stole her heart at eight years old. He’s tall still, of course, but he won’t tower above her anymore. She’s taller than her father now by two inches. He claims it’s the heels she always wears when she’s not training. She knows better.

She saunters up to the bar, and leans into the polished wood next to him. “Buy me a drink?”

There’s a ghost of the familiar crinkle of his eyes before he looks to the bartender and gestures for her to order. A Navy man had never refused a woman a drink yet.

“Two Longboards.”

“Nothing girly?” He teases with a tired smile. This close she can see the way the years have aged him. The peppering of gray through his hair; the lines of too few smiles and too much worry across his face. Even the five o’clock shadow covering jaw is light now.

“Nah,” she smiles, cocking her head with her best smile. They click their bottles together.

The conversation is easy, but he stays aloof. She describes her training. Search and rescue is hard, and the last five months have been hell on her body and mind.

“So where is home?”

She grins up at him, the answer rolling off her lips easily, the one her father still fights to deny. “Here.”

 

The bar closes about two hours later, and he pays their tab, and walks her to her rental. He’s every bit the gentleman she remembers. He laughs as he tells her a story of his old SEAL team and a mission that went horribly wrong when they got attacked by koalas in Australia. She cuts off his laughter with a kiss. His lips are as soft as she’d imagined, and her heart flutters where its caught somewhere in her throat. He doesn’t push her away at first, and she knows.

He’s gentle as he steps away, eyes closed in painful patience. “I’m old enough to be your father.”

“I know.” Her answer is simple, and it doesn’t matter.

He shakes his head, “I don’t even know your name.”

She steps back in and presses a kiss, quickly so that he can’t push her away again. She can almost feel his resolve crumble slightly. She wonders how long he’s denied himself.

“Does it matter?”

His eye twitches, and he walks to his truck as she follows without another word.

 

She knows the house well. Remembers almost every inch from her childhood. There’s new furniture, new paint, but the smell is the same. Sea salt and sandalwood, with a warm breeze blowing over her face. She pauses in the doorway and inhales, feeling calm sweep over her. She hasn’t felt this at peace in years.

He walks up behind her, offering a cold beer as they stare at the crashing waves lit by the moon. She takes a sip, then sets hers down. She doesn’t need it for this.

Their third kiss is hesitant. He doesn’t pull away, but he won’t give in easily either. She knows everything wrong about this is playing through his mind. If he knew the truth he’d have already put her to bed, and called her father to come get her. Except he and Danny haven’t talked in years and Danny’s rules don’t apply anymore.

She pulls back slightly, and moves one of his hands to her cheek, the other to her breast. His eyes are dark, and she can’t read his face like her father used to. She doesn’t need to. “I want you.” She kisses him again, and his hand combs back through her hair to pull her closer. “I want this.”

She moans as he slides his hand up under her shirt, his hesitancy sliding away now that he’s made up his mind.

 

She’d only been in his bedroom once before now. She’d snuck in one morning when she and Danny had spent the night after a barbeque celebrating their visit from Jersey. He hadn’t even flinched in his sleep, body still under from too much alcohol. Catherine’s head had popped up from the pillow next to his, smiling as she lifted a finger to her lips. She’d understood and backed out slowly. Catherine had died five days later and Danny had never returned to Hawaii.

His chest has more scars than she’d seen that morning. More tattoos as well. A sun peeking over a nipple as she teases it with her tongue, and a gecko over the other. His hands trace over the scar she got from falling off his lanai one weekend after a football game, and she watches as he eyes it.

When her dress comes off he finally looks away, distracted by red lace and then the absence of tan lines on miles of caramel skin. He’s bigger than she had imagined, soft and hard as he stretches out over her. She smiles into his questioning eye, both gasping as he finally takes her.

She knows they won’t last long this first time. His hand rests on her scar, and they speed up, desperate for the release they feel nearing. He hooks her leg over his hip, and she drags his face down to cry out his name against his neck.

“Grace,” he gasps as he comes, both of them collapsing into each other.


End file.
